BUG STOMPERS
by SCEWT
Summary: Alternate reality that follows the Quadrilogy, except Hicks and Newt are still alive. Follow the lives of Hicks and Newt as they reentwine after centuries apart. Heart pumping action and thrills, romance and adventure! Please read and review. ENJOY!
1. CH1 Goodbyes

**Hey guys! This is the first story I ever worked on and I would really love it if you had a read and told me what you think. Please review after, even if you hated it! Thanksssss!**

**This first chapter is probably my favourite, because it's the one I put most of my own work into so far - so what do yall think?**

**insert boring disclaimer here **

**_The author JPC73 would like to pay homage and adoration to the original writer of this story – Marisa. I have her full permission to work on this story, but I would recommend that you read her version if anything. The main reason I decided to work on this story was to try and fit it in with the quadrilogy, so a lot my plotlines are stupid._**

_**Honestly Marisa's 'Bug Hunters' has got to be my favourite story, and the best fanfic I have ever read. It's packed full of action, thrills and emotion. I cried, I laughed, I squealed like a little pig… SO READ IT DAMN YOU! I want it to be a movie rofl.**_

_**Thank you x 10000000 Marisa. You are a champion and always will be!!**_

* * *

Wierzbowski... Spunkmeyer... Dietrich... Ferro... Frost... Crowe... Drake... Vasquez... Hudson... Apone... They were all dead. And so was Gorman, the rookie Lieutenant. No one ever figured out what happened to the Carter Burke, the company man, but there was not a chance in hell that he could have survived out there anyway. Even if he had escaped out of the colony compound without running into any of the Aliens, he wouldn't have cleared the blast radius from the explosion at the atmosphere processor.

No one cared whether Burke had lived or died anyway. No one...

Corporal Dwayne Hicks, lone survivor of the elite US Colonial Marine team, sat on the cold metal floor, his aching back against the cold metal wall of the Sulaco's secondary dropship, smoking a cigarette. A white bandage covered the left side of his face and another bandage protected the injury to his chest and left shoulder. He recalled that when he had blown the shit out of that last Alien, he and Ripley had just gotten into the lift. The door hesitated to close, even after he had punched the button hard several times. Just as the door started to close, an Alien launched itself toward them, preventing the door from closing any further. Pure reflex had caused Hicks to raise his pulse rifle and fire it at the creature. Its head blew open and its acid blood sprayed all over his chest, eating through his 'unbreakable' armor and burning his flesh.

And then Ripley went after the kid. He couldn't figure out how she had held it together down there while he had lost two thirds of his entire team in less than fifteen minutes. She managed to locate Newt and rescued her, all while being pursued by what Ripley later described to him as quite literally being 'The Mother of all Aliens'. The alien Queen bitch responsible for laying all the eggs in the colony's atmospheric processor.

As soon as the dropship had cleared the planets atmosphere Hicks knew everything would be OK, he just knew there was nothing else that could go wrong. The Aliens were all dead, Ripley had managed to escape the Queen, but most importantly she and Newt were safe and out of harms way. Nothing else could possibly go wrong - Hicks just had a feeling. This thought comforted him as he felt sleep take hold of him. Sleep – he was so tired, and he hadn't slept for so many days. NO! He jolted back up. He had to stay awake until they got back to the Sulaco; he had to make sure everybody was OK. His head dropped but somebody caught it before it hit his shoulder. Hicks opened his undamaged eye slightly and saw Ripley, she had her hand on his cheek, it was warm and soft.

"Its OK Dwayne, you just rest, I'll make sure everything is fine, just sleep." She whispered softly. Hicks felt himself smile slightly and then fell asleep where he was sitting.

A sudden jostle brought Hicks back around. The dropship had landed back on the Sulaco. He had slept, but was not sure for how long and he still felt like crap. He opened his eye and looked around, Ripley was unstrapping herself and Newt from their seats and Bishop was emerging from the cockpit. Bishop walked over to Hicks and offered out his hand, Hicks accepted and Bishop hoisted him back to his feet.

Bishop smiled as he put his hand on Hicks' shoulder "Welcome back Corporal"

"How long was I asleep" Hicks asked as he began removing the bandage from his eye.

"Not long, just the duration of the trip back up, about an hour, there was some trouble clearing the planets gravitational pull. I'm surprised you didn't wake up sooner, we went through some serious chop back there. I'm going to run a vehicle status scan to check for major hull ionization. I think it would be wise for you to do a quick recon of the immediate areas of the ship…" He glanced over to Ripley and Newt. "Just incase". Hicks nodded in agreement and silently moved over to the weapons storage area. As he passed the equipment shelf he slung a motion sensor over his healthy shoulder. He picked up the closest pulse rifle from its rack, smacked in a magazine and was in the process of slinging it over his injured shoulder, when he noticed that there was something written on it. He flipped it over and it read 'Till Death Do Us Part', as he read it he chuckled quietly, but at the same time felt a pang of sorrow. Hudson, that stupid dick was always defacing the equipment, they all did - even Hicks. He closed his eyes as memories of his team, his only friends, came flooding back into his head.

He smashed his fist into the wall. They were dead, every single fucking one of them! And there was no one to blame except those big, cold-blooded fuckers!

Ripley appeared around the corner, Newt following close behind.

"Hicks, what's wrong? What's happened? Where are you going with the pulse rifle?" asked Ripley reaching out to touch him. Hicks – it annoyed him how quickly Ripley had reverted back to calling him Hicks after he had asked her to call him Dwayne back at the compound.

He brushed her hand away, avoiding her touch "Nothing. Nothing's wrong Ellen. Just wait here till I get back, promise me you and Newt will stay here in the docking bay until I come and tell you its OK?"

Newt stepped forward "We promise. And Hicks?"

"Yes Newt?"

She put her hand on his sore fist from where he punched the wall "Promise you'll be back soon, because we're not going to leave you"

Hicks was taken aback, but he smiled and squeezed her little hand tightly

"I Promise"

He winked at the two new beacons of hope in his otherwise ruined life and walked out the door and down the dropship's ramp.

His trained eyes scanned the area around the vast, eerie loading bay, nothing. His left eye stung like shit – but what kind of excuse was that? He headed towards the silent crew quarters. He was constantly vigilant for any signs of anything that was disturbed or out of the ordinary. He checked the motion sensor; it wasn't picking anything up. He walked past the mess hall, catching a slight glimpse of the long metal table in the middle of the room, he thought he smelt the slight alluring odor of cooking meat – but it was just his imagination. He walked through a large door and arrived in the cryotube bay, as he walked he ran his hand over the tubes that he and his team had lay sleeping in only hours before. He stopped once again to take a breath and try to block the images of his friends as they were on this ship out and then them being carried off by the bugs or being consumed by fire or acid blood. The thought sent shivers down his spine. Hicks crept stealthily, like a panther, into the long, dark, empty hallway of the permanent crew residents.

He read the names on the doors even though he felt no need to, he already knew where everyone had slept, how could he not? One after the other he scanned through the quarters of his fallen comrades. Gorman – clear, Apone – clear, Wierzbowski – clear, Drake – clear, Vasquez – clear, he continued on his painful journey down the hallway and was approaching Dietrich's room, when he heard a faint blipping on the motion sensor. He quickly pulled it up into his line of vision and saw two small dots inside. He felt his blood boil and he was overcome with rage – how dare those fuckers come onboard this ship, his home, the marines home! He kicked in the door, yelling at the top of his lungs and without even looking he let the pulse rifle rip, bullets rained down on the spot where the motion sensor had indicated movement. Hicks' whole body reeled as he saw a small birdcage in the corner of the room. It contained two tiny, yellow canaries, one sitting petrified on its perch, its mate collapsed in a small heap of blood and feathers at the bottom of the cage. Hicks felt completely empty as he removed the tiny dead soul out of its cage and wrapped it in a tea towel from the rooms' kitchenette.

He hadn't known that Dietrich had these birds – now that he thought about it he realised that there was so much he hadn't know about these people he called his friends - and he would never get a chance to find out, nobody would.

"I'm so sorry little fella - hey, sometimes we're better off dead"

He turned to its female mate and in an attempt at reconciliation held it out a dish of water. It did not drink. He just stared at the poor defenseless bird as it tried to get as far away from his outstretched hand as possible.

"Till Death Do Us Part" he said quietly under his breath to the small figured rapped in the towel in his hand, as though he thought someone might hear him. Then he remembered, there wasn't anyone in the quarters, just him. He closed the cage door and quickly searched the rest of the area, it was clear, if there was still life onboard, none of those hideous creatures were.

He was going to make sure that this bird was cared for properly until the end of its days, and he knew just the person to help him with that. He reslung his motion sensor and weapon and headed back to the loading bay, along with the canary. As he slowly and mournfully walked down the long corridor towards the docking bay he thought he could hear screaming and crying, but he knew deep down that it was just his brain recalling the horrific events of the night. He kept trudging forward. Then he heard it again, this time a more distinct cry - it was Newt calling for Ripley! They were in trouble! He ran as fast as he could, dropping everything except the bird in its cage as he went. By the time he reached the end of the corridor he was completely out of breath and what he saw made him drop even the bird and his legs gave way from exhaustion, stress and sleep deprivation.

There in front of him, right in the middle of the docking bay was Ripley strapped into the enormous cargo Power Loader, locked in fierce battle with the biggest fucking alien he had ever seen. Its many armor plated legs and claws thrashed about and its mouth appendage swiveled this way and that trying to impale Ripley through the head. As she skillfully dodged its blows the light refracted off the alien's massive black crown of armor. This was the big bitch Ripley had told him about. This was the Queen. There was nothing he could do to help Ripley now, she was taking care of herself. He had to find Newt and Bishop. His green eyes panned around the enormous room from the battling pair, to the piles of cargo crates and weapons canisters, to the heavy steel cranes and chains hanging from the ceiling, then up to the massive, 6 inch thick steel boom doors and then he spotted Bishop. He was split in two, the upper part of his torso lying helplessly at the foot of the dropships ramp, white android blood spilling out everywhere.

He ran to Bishops side, wiping blood from his friends eyes and mouth, taking up his hand and pressing gently but urgently one question: "Bishop, you have to tell me, where's Newt?"

"Newt, Rebecca, she's over there, hiding in the service duct" Bishop spluttered, trying his hardest to sound ok.

Hicks looked, and he could see about 50 meters away, two small hands holding the steel grate of the electrical service duct shut.

He started to scuttle on his hands and knees over towards Newt, but before he reached her, heard an enormous crash and Ripley scream. He had to help Ripley - but she would never forgive him if he let anything happened to Newt – he wouldn't forgive himself. He crawled quickly to where Newt was hiding and pulled her out of the floor, he held her tightly in a fatherly type hug and just as he released her from his grasp Ripley opened the airlock and Newt flew out of his arms. She was well out of his reach now and screaming for Bishop's help. Hicks wanted to run after her and save her but he needed to hold on or he too would be sucked out of the airlock. Amazingly as she sped past him, Bishop had managed to use his remaining energy to grab hold of Newts hand while keeping a firm grip on the grate he was collapsed on. Hicks tried to call out to them but the air was ripped right out of his lungs when he opened his mouth.

He turned to the airlock that Ripley had fallen into with the Alien Queen. They were both gone, and now he had to find some way of closing it off.

Suddenly a hand appeared out of the great sucking hole in the floor, followed by an arm, a torso and the rest of the body of Ripley, Ellen Ripley, she was amazing. She pulled herself out of the airlock and shut the doors. Air pressure was immediately returned to normal. Hicks got to his feet and as quickly as he could ran to the small window that looked into the endless abyss that is space. He looked out just in time to see the queen twitching and screaming as she was carried away, she turned her head to him opening her jaws and snapped her appendage menacingly in his direction as she fell into nothingness.

"Yeah, Fuck you too!"

He turned and ran back to Bishop, where both Ripley and Newt were crouched. Bishop was still and motionless, so innocent as he lay there on the cold blood-drenched floor. Ripley and Newt were both holding each other and as Hicks got to their sides he heard Newt questioning Ripley.

"But he's not real, like a robot, doesn't that mean they can fix him Ripley and he'll get better again?" tears were streaming down her face.

"I don't know Newt, I really don't know"

Newt broke away from Ripley as she saw Hicks coming, she rushed up to him and held his legs as he stood, in shock.

"Hicks, Bishop's not like us, he can't die right? He'll be coming back?"

Hicks crouched to her level

"I'm sorry, Hon, but I don't know either, guess we'll just have to wait and see"

She grabbed hold of him and started to weep, as the two held each other, Hicks felt Ripley's arms wrap around the both of them and he too felt a tear roll down his cheek.

Several hours later when they had all washed and eaten and Bishops body was wrapped in plastic and safely stored in a spare cryotube, Hicks was gazing at the sadness in Newts eyes - when he remembered. He ran back to the place where he had left the tiny yellow canary and bought it back to Newt. He held it behind his back in its cage as he approached Newt.

"Newt, I found something in Dietrich's quarters before when I was looking around the ship. I think she would have liked you to have it and I think you could do with a friend right now…" He pulled it out from behind him and passed it to her "It's a little girl, like you"

A subtle and very well hidden smile came across Newts face. Her blue eyes twinkled.

"Thank you so much Hicks – she's beautiful"

He sat there watching Newt talk to the bird and feed her some bread, that he had got for her from the mess hall, while listening to Ripley was prepping their cryotubes somewhere behind him. He was glad that he could help someone forget the horror, even if it's just for a while. Ripley slipped into the seat next to him. Hicks didn't remove his gaze from the young girl. Ripley put her hand on his,

"Dwayne, you're smiling"

* * *

Hicks had insisted on doing one more last minute check of the accessible areas of the ship before they went into cryosleep. He had though that everything was clear after his first sweep – well look where that had got them. Bishop had been decimated and both Ripley and Newt had almost been sucked out of the airlock, he wasn't going to take any more chances. This time everything was clear – he made absolutely sure of that.

He was ready to sleep now, they all were. But then he caught a sniff of himself, he smelt rank – there was one more thing to do. Hicks needed to change his clothes. He pulled his shorts off, rendering him naked for a second before he replaced them with a clean pair. He didn't bother closing the door, Newt was over in the Tube room, and he wasn't sure where Ripley was – not that it would bother him if she saw him – actually it would be quite… Then he had to stop himself, it wasn't the time or place for those kind of thoughts. After a moment or two of trying to control his urges he then sat down on the bench as he unfolded a fresh shirt from his locker. He looked around momentarily, and then pulled the shirt over his head, blocking his line of sight for a split second. He pulled it down over his face and -

"Goddam it! -" Hicks yelled as he toppled backwards off the bench.

Newt was standing right in front of him, she had given him quite a shock. Then the thought hit Hicks – how long had she been watching him? Without even standing up Hicks quickly went to cover his pants.

"What's wrong Hicks?" Newt asked innocently.

"Nothing hon you…um…you just gave me a fright, that's all"

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean too. But that's not what I meant – I meant what's wrong with your leg? Did you hurt it falling off the seat?" she pointed at the lump in his pants he was trying so desperately to cover up.

"No, I mean yeah, I hurt my leg" Hicks tried not to laugh. Newt offered out her hand to help him stand up.

"No, no it's fine, just give me a second – my leg – erm still hurts" After a second or two of Hicks feeling a cross between extreme embarrassment and amusement, he felt that it was safe for him to get up again. He straightened his pants and pulled himself up onto the bench and lifted Newt to sit on his knee.

"What can I help you with then kid?" He asked hoping that Newt wouldn't relay this experience to Ripley. Newt smiled shyly, but did not speak.

"It's OK, Newt, what did you want to say" Hicks smiled, what could she want?

Newt spoke without lifting her gaze to meet Hicks', "Well, to start off with I just wanted to thank you for the little bird – she's very pretty". Hicks laughed – was that all, he thought something had gone wrong again. "That's perfectly alright sweety, like I said I'm sure Dietrich would have wanted you to take care of it" he fondly pushed his head up against hers.

"I was wondering, have you ever had a bird?" Newt asked suddenly

"No, I can't say I have" Hicks drew his head back. He knew what she was doing, she was trying to make him name the bird. He wasn't exactly sure what to do here – kids weren't his game. Women, guns, war – yes, but kids? No way.

"Have you ever had any other pets then?" Newt continued

"No, sorry – I'm not exactly an animal kinda guy" He felt bad.

"Oh, well – if you ever had a pet bird – what would you call it?"

"I'm not sure" He was racking his brains for a suitable name for this bird… " Your doll was very pretty, what was her name again – Casey – if my bird was a girl I think I might call her Casey?" He looked at the top of Newts head hopefully, not wanting to let her down again.

"My mummy named that doll Casey". Oh crap! Bad move! Bad move Hicks.

"What about Dorothy?" Hicks blurted out off the top of his mind. Dorothy? What the hell kinda name was Dorothy? Frost used to date a girl called Dorothy he seemed to recall – but still, Dorothy?

"I think that's a nice name" the kid said quietly - Hicks breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hicks?" Newt looked up to him  
"Yeah?"

"Would you mind if I called that little birdy you gave me Dorothy?" she smiled hopefully

"No, actually I think that's a great idea, Dorothy the canary – it suits her" he stifled a snort.

Newt smiled up at him, and for a second Hicks too forgot about all the horror that he had experienced that night.

After what seemed like hours of him just sitting there savoring the feeling he was experiencing, it all came flooding back into his head – the aliens, his friends, the explosion – everything.

"Is that all you wanted then kid?" Hicks asked as he slipped her off his knee and back to the ground.

"No, I… um… I wanted to give you something" She held out her hand. Hicks held his out as well and she let the trinket drop onto his palm. It was a small silver charm on a long chain.

"it's a Newt – just like me" she pointed out. Hicks looked closer, and indeed the charm was a tiny lizard. He didn't know much about reptiles – but he was pretty sure that the charm wasn't a Newt, but it was the idea that mattered. It still meant the world to him. He lifted her off her feet into a tight hug. No one had ever really done anything like this for him before.

"Thank you Newt – I don't know what to say" he explained as he continued to hold her.

"You and Ripley saved me, there's not much you really need to say. Plus you gave me Dorothy" Newt replied. Hicks didn't want to let go of her, she was the closest thing to a daughter he would ever have and he knew that he would probably never see her, or Ripley, again when they got back to Gateway. Despite everything he was telling himself to do he released her from the hug. She smiled at him.

"I found it back in the air ducts at the colony before you came to get me, It gave me luck and helped me survive – I was thinking that maybe you needed some luck now too, now that – I mean now that you know… the other soldiers, Hudson and that are - "

"Yeah kid – thanks, it means a lot" Hicks relised that Ripley must have explained to her that they would be split up one they got back to the Space Port.

" You better get going now, Ripley's probably starting to wonder where you are" he gently but firmly pushed her shoulder in the direction of the door. Newt turned back to face him and pulled him down to her level. She gave him a little peck on the cheek and started towards the door. Hicks thought he better get this out of the way before they got back to where Ripley could over hear them –

"Uh, Hon – before when you gave me a fright…"

Newt turned back around to face Hicks, "When you hurt your leg falling off the seat?"

"Yeah, then – How long had you been watching me?"

Newts face turned a little pink - "Not long" she said quickly and ran back to the Cryotube Bay where Ripley was waiting. And for the first time in many years Hicks could feel himself going red.

* * *

Hicks lay back and watched the lid of the Cryotube close down on top of him. For the second time in one night he could feel sleep slipping into him and start to take over, he was feeling very light headed. But this time it was OK to give in – he could sleep and in a couple of months they would get back to Gateway and he would get a chance to say his good byes… he didn't want to say good bye… but if he had too he would prefer it to be somewhere he knew that they would be safe… yes good byes were very sad… sad… yes… very sad… sad good byes. He mustered the last of his strength and used it to look up over his shoulder. He could see Newt, she was wearing another of his spare shirts, and Ripley – she was walking around in nothing but a singlet and underpants – now that is something you want to see before going to sleep for six months… Ripley was an amazing woman… mmmm goodbye Ellen.


	2. CH2 Hellos

**Hey again. I just wanted to thank everyone for the messages and reviews of this and my other stories!! Sorry if this isn't edited, but I have to go watch the Terminator coz it's on TV whooh! Yeah if you like: rewiew. if you hate: review!**

**_The author JPC73 would like to pay homage and adoration to the original writer of this story – Marisa. I have her full permission to work on this story, but I would recommend that you read her version if anything. The main reason I decided to work on this story was to try and fit it in with the quadrilogy, so a lot my plotlines are stupid._**

**_Honestly Marisa's 'Bug Hunters' has got to be my favourite story, and the best fanfic I have ever read. It's packed full of action, thrills and emotion. I cried, I laughed, I squealed like a little pig… SO READ IT DAMN YOU!_**

**_Thank you x 10000000 Marisa. You are a champion and always will be!!!_**

* * *

**273 Years Later**

The wind was howling and whipping surface of the desolate planet known as CelioLS-119 smooth, although all the passing vessels and freighters referred to it as Deadsville-119, only because there was nothing living on it at the moment, other than a few hives here and there. The planet had been evacuated several months ago just after the first bug sightings. The infestation needed to be exterminated before the planet's residents could return.

The only thing that could possibly be heard for miles over the roaring wind was the sound of a dropship's powerful engines fighting against the ferocious onslaught as it circled over a tall mound of rocks about a hundred yards away from an abandoned town.

The pilot of the dropship looked down from the side window. "Holding steady at 50 feet. We've got pressure 20, safe for a touchdown evacuation – ETA?"

A female voice responded to her. "Almost there. Hold it tight Bobir. ETA 10 mins, A1's got it covered " In the background was the sound of gunfire and screeching.

"So - how's the weather up there?",  
"How's the company down there?"

"Just great",

"So's the weather"

Far beneath the circling dropper, inside a cave beneath the derelict town, four figures, dressed in heavy, black armor and helmets and carrying state of the art lethal weaponry, swept down the tight, encrusted corridor spraying it with gunfire. For every bug they killed, another took its place. But the small squad continued to advance, carefully stepping over the dead creatures, avoiding the pools of acid blood.

The alien drones began to retreat, heading back to protect their queen. They blocked the entrance to the nest, but it didn't discourage the squad of humans. Their fire rained down on the drones, burning the repulsive creatures alive.

Once the squad was satisfied that their path was now unhindered, they advanced, pushing aside the charred remains of the drones.

The leader of the squad raised a hand and signaled for the rest of the squad to halt, and then stealthily continued alone, forwards, stepping over a dead drone, or at least it appeared to be dead. The drone leapt up and grabbed the leader's ankle.

The leader unsheathed a large hunting knife and cleanly sliced the creature's arm at the elbow, at the same time laying a round or two into it – right in the mouth. As the acid blood ate into the steel of the knife, it was tossed aside by the leader, who then bent to remove the creature's lifeless hand, that was still wrapped around their ankle.

About 100 meters ahead was the almighty Alien Queen, suspended on the ceiling over her gigantic, pulsating egg sack, screeched in fury at the destruction of her children. Her arms flailed angrily at the approaching human. The other humans held back, but remained ready and poised - their weapons raised in preparation for evasive maneuvers.

The leader crouched and edged meter by meter closer to the Queen. 70 meters… 50 meters… the Queen began to detach her egg sack… 30 meters – time to up the pace, the leader started to sprint towards the immense beast ahead, dodging face huggers bursting out from their dormant eggs left and right… 10 meters… 5… The leader lifted a KS-91 pulse rifle and sprayed fifty rounds into the Queen's hideous, screaming face.

The bullets ripped it's immense head to shreds. The Queen haphazardly fell from her crudely suspended net and crushed a dozen of her own eggs beneath her. The leader gave the signal and the other three squad members moved forward and began to spray the remaining eggs with burning hot fire, incinerating everything in the Alien nest chamber.

The pilot glanced down toward the rock mound again as she continued to circle the dropship. "How's it going down there. Give me status?"

The female voice returned. "It's clean. Hostiles terminated. Get that Falcon ready to Swoop. Pickup in 2"

The pilot smiled. "Another one bites the dust. On route. I'm on my way Lieutenant"

The dropship landed several yards away from the mound. The four figures stepped out of a hole in the mound and approached the drop ship. As they walked the leader pulled their helmet off – A torrent of blonde hair cascaded down onto her shoulders. The A1 Bug Squad clambered up the ramp and the dropship immediately lifted off.

Orbiting the lifeless planet was a bulky, rusted military vessel, decked out in various battle guns and hundreds of protruding antenna. As the dropship passed back into outer space and towards the orbiting ship, the colossal writing on the vessel became legible – the dropship was about to dock back inside its mother ship – the Medica 018. As battered and worn the Medica 018 looked on the outside, the inside was even worse. It was rusted and needed a major cleaning. Still none of its crew seemed to mind – It was home.

The dropship lifted into its cradle beneath the belly of the Medica and came to its final resting place in the docking bay. When the ramp lowered, the four figures and the pilot exited. They made their way out of the bay through a door that noisily slid open upon their approach.

"I tell you Bobir – Ganz and Hodner – the two best gunners I've ever worked with" The blonde Lieutenant was saying to the Pilot.

A tall, heavily build black man ran to catch up with them "Well Lieutenant, you're quite a piece of work yourself" he joked smiling at his superiors.

"That better have been a compliment Ganz – You two go clean yourselves up and we'll talk at dinner" the Lieutenant replied pushing him playfully in the side of the head.

The attractive blonde woman was the leader of the squad of Alien fighters – informally known as 'Bug Hunters' or 'Bug Stompers'. She was tall, a good head taller than some of her counterparts. Most men were intimidated by her height and she used it to her full advantage. But then again, she intimidated most men in general. By her sultry looks, by her piercing pale blue eyes, by her lean and muscular physique - by the fact that she chose to kill some of the most feared creatures in the known universe for a living.

The squad made their way down the main corridor, discussing the most recent extermination among other things, she continued on as the rest of her crew turned down various other corridors. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on her. When was the last time she had slept? Thirty-six hours ago? Which was about seventeen hives ago. Seventeen hives and seventeen queens on that planet. A more than typical infestation. The same question haunted her mind over and over again. How did these things get from one planet to another?

Before she had a chance to reach her quarters, she heard running footsteps behind her.

"Lieutenant, Lieutenant... Gateway wants to know the situation on CelioLS-119. They want to know when the residents can return to their homes."

She turned around to face Private Luder, her communications officer. "I told Ellery to relay the message. Can't anybody do anything right on this ship?", he was really pushing her here.

"Sorry, Lieutenant, but Corporal Packer has already retired and..."

"Don't say it, Luder, don't say that you didn't want to disturb him because you don't seem to have a fucking problem disturbing me. Now get over to his quarters and get the report from him. You got that?" She felt bad – but he had to learn.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

She sighed heavily and waited until Luder dejectedly walked away before she turned toward the door to her quarters. When she stepped closer and hit a button on the door, it slid open. She began removing her armor as she walked inside, leaving it wherever it hit the floor, her eyes falling on her prized possession.

Like a ritual, she walked up to the gargantuan creature slung from the ceiling in the corner of her large quarters and touched its chin. The creature was dead, of course, she made sure of that. She would never have allowed a living one on her ship. This was her trophy. Her very first Queen kill. To have it so close to her made her fear the deadly creatures less.

The Alien Queen was a perfect specimen. Her head was lowered and her mouth was forever frozen open, revealing her jagged, razor-sharp teeth. If she had been alive, anyone this close to her would have been dead or been a host for her young.

The door chirped and the Lieutenant leisurely sat down in a chair in front of the queen. "Come in." The door slid open and Bishop entered quietly. She turned to look at him. "I hope you have good news, Bishop. Coz I'm really pissed off, and if its bad -."

"Well, it's good news and bad news." Bishop walked up to her, glancing up at the immobile Queen. Even though he was an android, he still got uneasy looking at the Alien Queen – it brought back quite a few bad memorys, always remembering how one of them had literally ripped his arms out during one of his missions with the Lieutenant.

"Give me the good news first," she said.

"I found him."

"And the bad news?"

"He doesn't want to be found."

" You want to elaborate on that?" she asked impatiently with a sigh. "Whatta you mean he doesn't want to be found?"

Bishop shrugged and quietly continued. "He's using an assumed name, Elliot Norris."

She smiled to herself, finally turning away from the Queen. "Elliot? Elliot Norris?"

"I checked his file. It's his father's name. And Norris was his mother's maiden name. So it wasn't that difficult to find him."

"And you know where he is right now?"

"Yes. My source says he's in the vicinity. No exactly close but he's reachable."

"Right - Change course immediately. We're going."

"I'll inform the bridge." Bishop sighed and headed for the door.

"And bring me his file." She got up and started to walk toward the bathroom and a much-needed shower. Bishop turned weary on his heel and sighed again, "Rebecca..."

Rebecca "Newt" Jorden paused at the entrance to her bathroom and turned back to Bishop. He was the only one she tolerated calling her that. No one else dared call her by her first name for fear of getting a boot shoved up their ass - and not in a very nice manner either. But Bishop had been like a father to her. He had always been there while she had been growing up.

Bishop had promised to always stay with her. To start off with he had 'advised' her to remain on Earth, get a good education and work in some office, doing some high-priced fancy intelligences job. She wanted no part of it. She needed to be out there, fighting her demons. Doing this job made her nightmares almost bearable. It gave her a sense of purpose and satisfaction to know that she had prevented future human deaths by disposing of any alien hives that were reported to her.

"He's not who you think he is anymore."

Newt looked up at him, her thoughts drifting back to the present. "Why do you say that? What makes you think he's who _you_ think he is?"

"He's on the most wanted list for one. He appears to take pleasure in ridding the universe of those involved in criminal activities, or at least those that rub him the wrong way."

She shrugged. "So? What's wrong with that?"

"Well, vigilantism is still against the law in most parts of the populated universe."

Newt shrugged again. "His chosen profession means nothing to me. Marines are just more organized and glorified vigilantes"

"True - He's unreliable."

"I've known better people that weren't very reliable."

"And he's also quite unstable."

"So am I," she said dryly as she walked into the bathroom and snapped the door shut.

* * *

**Somewhere on 4F Berreman Omnicore**

4F Berreman Omnicore was known as the riff raff capital of the Omega system. It was infamous for being home to mercenaries, hoodlums, crime lords and anyone involved in anything illegal. It was also the favorite hangout of the Homo Centurions,

a species that resembled humans in most ways, except for the fact that by all scientific reasoning they were roughly half android, one quarter human and one quarter 'unknown'. The one thing that made Centurions distinguishable from other humans was the fact that the veins in their forehead were very pronounced and a deep purple colour.

The Homo Centurions had been officially brought into existence just after the turn of the new century by followers of a scientific following known these days only as 'The Post-Modern Prometheus' – through a process of natural evolution and gene doctoring they were created. A genetic hybridization of humans, humanoid androids and some dieing, unknown alien race which has possibly become extinct since the time of the Centurions creation 150 years ago. There had been rumors of all kinds of scientific mutations and genetic engineering about for hundreds of years beforehand, nothing could be substantiated – mainly because it was most likely the organizations in power conducting the experiments. But a large section of the military had uncovered the experiments when it was already too late – another sub-species of human had been created.

Like all races, certain areas of the Centurion culture became tainted and large regions of the widespread community were seduced by the offerings of a lifetime of crime and conflict. Like a disease the isolated areas of corruption spread until the majority of the universal Centurion population was overcome. Within 100 years of being set out into the universe they had completely corrupted and decimated themselves and almost every chance to instigate any form of a future for generations to come. They had acquired all that was bad and wrong about each of their founding races, all the greed, violent, malice, contempt – everything, and multiplied it a thousand fold as a people. This being the explanation for the fact that half the population of 4F Berreman Omnicore were Homo Centurion.

Roughly 23 years ago after the Human race mercilessly doing all they could to wipe out the existence of the race then known as Centurions, the two civilizations went to all out interstellar war. After 12 years of fighting a peace treaty was signed between the two races declaring the subdivision of the term 'Human race' – There were now two groups of humans – Homo Sapiens and Homo Centurions. Still most of the Homo Sapiens refused to accept their new brethren and its not uncommon to hear them referring to themselves as 'The Human Race'. There was still quite a lot of unofficial political and otherwise ongoing tension and sparring between the two races. Rarely you will find communities or individuals happy to coincide with each other. Some take the rivalry to yet another extreme. One thing about the Centurions was clear though – whether clever as all hell or dumb as steaming pile of shit – they were all untrustworthy.

This was the reason Corporal Jonathon Rothe refused to allow his commanding Lieutenant to go down to the surface without the squad.

"I'm going alone, Rothe" Newt stated firmly as she checked the clips on two pulse rifles.

"This is no place for a decent woman, especially one like – like you" he argued.

"Oh spare me the lecture, Rothe. You know I can take care of myself."

"Why the hell are you risking your life for this nobody anyway?"

"Because we need him."

"We need him? What in gods name do we need a mercenary for? We do not fucking need him!"

Newt strapped the holsters with the pulse guns to each of her thighs. She ignored his question. "I gotta go." She strode swiftly out of the weapons storage.

Rothe tagged along behind her as she made her way down the dropship ramp. When he continued to walk with her, Newt stopped abruptly and turned to him, grabbing the front of his uniform. Rothe saw the determined look in her steely blue eyes and shivered.

"I won't say it again, Jon. I'm going alone." She released him roughly.

Rothe threw up his arms and stepped back. "Fine. Whatever! You're the boss. Go and get raped then…" he hissed as he slumped away, striking the wall with the palm of his hand as he went.

As Newt walked down the stinking, dirt street, she glanced left and right from the corners of her eyes, feeling the stares of those standing around the dilapidated buildings. The sun was starting to go down on the filthy, little port city and the wind kicked up the dirt, blowing her hair behind her wildly. She tied it haphazardly in a knot. Somewhere to her left, several shots were fired and a scream followed. No one seemed to care, she certainly didn't.

The neon sign above the entrance to a nearby bar read "Kitsugari" – It was old-speak for Foxhunt?. This was the place Bishop had told her about. Newt inspected the other neon images of women with exaggerated assets. This place was obviously not the place you would want to be if you weren't a wanted crim, or at least looking for one. Foxhunt - She wondered who had thought of that name to call such a place.

A filthy, smelly drunk staggered out of the entrance and almost collided into her. Upon seeing her, he gave her a toothy grin, or at least whatever was left of his rotting and decayed teeth. She tilted her head at him impatiently when he leered and wiggled his tongue at her in a suggestive manner. Then she unsheathed a ten-inch blade from her belt, holding it up just as suggestively as she too wiggled her tongue.

The drunk thought better of it and quickly staggered away as quickly as his pudgy legs would carry him. Newt re-sheathed her knife and looked back up at the sign. Maybe Rothe and Bishop had been right. This was no place for a woman, or at least not one who didn't sell her assets to the filth on this planet. She realized that every man in the place would want to sample what she had, but she wasn't going to take it. Before she changed her mind, Newt pushed the creaky door open and stepped in.

The lounge, if you could call it that, was crowded. Every table and chair was taken. The room smelt like a cross between vomit, mildew, jet fuel and urine - it was humid and dark, except for the center of the room where brightly colored lights flashed on a raised platform. Five scantily clad women were dancing in unison at the center. They danced to the beat of loud, tasteless music – Newt couldn't pick up exactly what the words in the song were but if they were half as filthy as the customers in this place, she didn't want to know - all eyes were on the women on the stage.

Until she walked in...

She eyed the staring men in the lounge. Her hands were at her sides, her fingers twitching, just itching to pull her guns out. Her Colonial Marine fatigues and uniform held no authority in a place like this, so it was just her and her guns from here on in.

She leant against a pillar near the entrance and scanned the area for lone males. There was a man sitting alone at the bar, drunk off his face – a Centurion – and defiantly not who she was looking for and the she spotted a possible. In a dark corner booth, a sole figure wearing worn snow goggles and a ripped and torn, hooded cloak over his head glanced up from his pungent, deep amber drink.

He could sense the change in the mood surrounding him. A different kind of woman to the usual trash had walked in the door. She was wearing a Colonial Marine uniform. His first thought was that some scum had recognized him and alerted the authorities. But they sent a woman instead, a woman to do a man's job? He smiled to himself and shook his head, taking a long drag out of his cigarette.

Newt finally decided that she wasn't going to get anywhere just standing around. He was here somewhere and she needed to find him. So she slowly began to move around the perimeter of the dance floor, scrutinizing everyone, but still not loosing eye sight of the man in the corner. After awhile she realized she wasn't sure who she was looking for, what he even looked like. It was far too dark.

The stranger in the corner booth kept his face hidden in the shadow of his cowl, but his eyes followed her every move through his night-vision goggles, which permitted him to see everything. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and on top of it, she was drop dead gorgeous. He admired her courage for walking into a place like this.

Newt stopped near the bar and surveyed the men sitting there, all of them gawking in her direction. "I'm looking for Elliot Norris!"

They all turned to look at each other and then in unison they all started laughing rather hysterically, like she had just purposefully told them an rather funny joke. The music continued to play, the dancers continued to dance. No one responded to her.

Newt frowned to herself. She wasn't going to get anywhere in here. But she was pissed off to no end. She approached the bar, furiously pushing an unsuspecting sole out of her way. "Vodka" – an oldie, but a goodie.

The bartender stared at her for a moment. When she put money on the bar, he poured her the shot and slid it toward her. Newt picked up the shot glass and gulped down the vodka, savoring the heat that burned down her throat. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and started to walk away from the bar.

The guy that she had earlier shoved out of her way stepped in front of her. He gave her a sneer. She stared him down, her brows knitted together in a threatening fashion. The guy stared back at her. He started to reach for his pistol.

"That's right," Newt said with disdain. "Go for the gun. I'd like to mention that before you can even take the safety off you'd have my M-73 shoved down your throat and out your ass. I haven't killed anyone in the last hour, should be fun…"

The guy decided to lower his hand and then he stepped aside.

"Smart move" she said as she winked sarcastically at the embarrassed sleaze and moved away from him, glancing back to make sure that he didn't change his mind again.

As she stalked along the edge of the dance floor, the five women continued to dance. Newt ignored them, even after one of them circled her erotically. She was going to kill Bishop for making her come down here for nothing - it was rather obvious that the man she sought was not in the place. She gave up and headed for the entrance only to see that five tall Homo-Centurions had stepped into her path, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She hated Centurions, having had one too many confrontations with them that all ended badly. For them mostly. Sighing heavily, she folded her arms and stared them down.

The one in the middle spoke first, his voice booming, even over the loud music. "You have no business here, Marine."

"Fine" she said as she unfolded her arms and started forward again, "I was just leaving anyway. Just incase you fellas didn't notice – this place is a hole" Newt intended piss them off just enough to let her walk right through them, or over them, whatever it was going to take. But she soon saw that they weren't going to budge. These big bastards were the real deal.

And it looked like everyone else in the place knew it, she was going to get any help from any of the low-lives here. The one in the middle started walking toward her. She felt a bead of sweat roll down her brow. Newt slowly began to back away, her fingers training over to her guns. She would use them, she didn't want to, but she would - if the need arose.

Then she backed up into a wall. She didn't have to look back to know that it was no wall, that it was another Centurion. Making it a total of six. Before she had a chance to react, the one behind her had quickly flipped her around and taken her guns from their holsters. But she wasn't about to give in that easily. She whirled around and slammed the palm of her hand into the front of the Centurion's throat. The Centurion was taken off guard and his arms flew into the air before he fell back.

Newt watched helplessly as her precious guns went sailing in opposite directions, disappearing into the crowd on either side. Dammnit! Then someone grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms down. The Centurion she had knocked down was back up on his feet and moving toward her. She pushed upward with her feet, bringing them up to slam into his face. The motion forced her holder to loosen his grip on her and she took advantage of it, turning so she was facing her attacker. She smiled and smashed both her hands into his face, she heard his nose crack and break. Her hands were throbbing with pain, but she kept fighting

The stranger watched the exchange with growing interest from his dark booth. The girl had balls that just didn't quit. But he knew she was no match for half a dozen Centurions. They'd soon overpower her no matter what moves she possessed.

Newt turned to her next attacker. When he advanced, she kicked him in the gut, only to be blindsided by another Centurion with a hard fist to her face. She went down hard on all fours. Her nose was gushing blood. The Centurion that had punched her delivered a kick into her gut and she howled in pain, now spitting up blood.

"Hey!"

Newt looked up and saw a dark clad figure standing at the edge of the dance floor. His head was covered with a cowl and he wore snow goggles. Her vision was slightly blurred from the blow to her face and she wasn't sure if the stranger was even human.

The Centurions all turned to face him.

"Now what the fuck exactly are you big bitches doing to this lady?" he asked the Centurions sarcastically – whoever this was Newt could tell immediately that they really hated Centurions.

The leader was holding Newt's head up by her hair. He abruptly released her, letting her head smash onto the floor, he lurched forward, sizing up this new opponent. "You want in on this then Sapien?"

The stranger pushed the cowl off his head and pulled off his goggles. "Yeah, I want in on this – you piece of shit."

Newt gasped in disbelief as the stranger tore his cloak off and revealed himself. It was him. It was Dwayne Hicks. She studied his features. He still looked the same, maybe a little older, his hair a little longer. But there was something else there, something she had never seen in him before. Something dark. Something deadly. Like a predator targeting his prey. Was this even him?

Hicks wanted to take out the leader, but the coward scum stepped aside and motioned for his cronies to take over. No problem. He'd just have to take out all of them. He wasn't prejudice, he just hated Centurions. Six less Centurions scum suckers in the universe wouldn't be a great loss. As he slowly moved to the center of the dance floor, the dancers quickly scattered haphazardly in every direction.

The crowd of onlookers began to place bets amongst themselves. Everyone knew what the Centurions were capable of, but most of them also knew what Elliot Norris was capable of. None of them however knew that Elliot Norris was Dwayne Hicks. None of them knew his background. They just knew he was bad news - of the worst kind.

Hicks kept his face lowered, watching from the tops of his brooding, green eyes as the first Centurion approached. He also sensed, or perhaps smelt, one approaching from somewhere behind him. When the Centurion tried to grab him around the chest, Hicks ducked at the last second and moved behind the Centurion, wrapping his arm around his neck. He wrapped his other arm around the Centurion's head and gave a yank until the Centurion's neck snapped. The Centurion fell in a heap and Hicks stepped over him, completely forgotten.

Newt got up on her feet when she saw that the Centurions were no longer paying any attention to her. But she remained rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off Hicks.

The Centurion who had first approached from in front of Hicks was now coming at him head on, bending to ram him in the stomach with his head. Hicks kicked out, striking the Centurion square in the face, then rammed his elbow hard into the Centurion's stomach. The Centurion fell to his knees with a loud thud. Hicks stepped behind the Centurion, grabbing him by the back of the neck and placed his knee on his spine. The sharp sound of the Centurion's thick spine snapping rang loud enough to be heard above the raging music. Everyone cringed. Hicks released the limp Centurion and nonchalantly smoothed the wrinkles off the sleeves of his long coat.

The Centurion leader was seething. "Kill him! Kill the fucker!"

The next Centurion advanced while another came from behind. The same ploy again. This time they attacked at the same time. One grabbed Hicks from behind while the other slammed a fist into his stomach, then a fist hard into his face. His head spun. Hicks used the Centurion behind him for leverage and he lifted himself up, wrapping his ankles around the other Centurion's neck. Another broken neck resulted. Still horizontal, Hicks spun himself in mid air out of the Centurion's grip and as he came down on his feet he heard his shoulder crack out of joint, he lunged forward and slammed his forehead against the Centurion's head. The Centurion staggered backward. These fuckers were sturdy enough – he'd give them that.

Another Centurion advanced, having produced a large double-edged saber and circled Hicks. Hicks sneered as if he was enjoying all of this, he wiped away the blood and spit coming from his mouth an nose.

The Centurion attacked, swinging the saber at Hicks, who ducked. Another swing and he ducked again. Hicks grabbed the Centurion's wrists and swung him around hard. The saber struck the Centurion he had given a concussion to, slicing his stomach open, right beside Newt. She gasped when she realized that the Centurion's thick, brown blood had splattered all over her face.

Hicks, still holding the wrists of the Centurion, dragged him toward Newt, who jumped and stepped back involuntarily. He yanked the saber from the Centurion's hands and held it out to her. "Here, I hope you like it." She just stared at him, so he shoved the saber into her hand, dragged the Centurion away by the wrists and then released him. In the blink of an eye, Hicks produced a sawn off shotgun. He straddled the Centurion on the floor and holding the weapon up to its eye – and without an ounce of hesitation or remorse - he blew half it's head away, then laid two more rounds into its chest, brown blood splattered over the entire room. When Hicks got up, he pushed the Centurion with his foot. The Centurion rolled toward a table. The occupants of the chairs surrounding the table quickly scrambled out of the way, trying to avoid being hit by the massive dead Centurion.

Newt was mesmerized by the pure aggression Hicks exhibited, the brutality in the way he killed his victims. He seemed to be enjoying the battle - lusting for more blood. She had always thought of the former Colonial Marine as levelheaded, straight-laced and by the book – like how your supposed to see a father figure. She recalled that all those years ago he had been unsure of her and apprehensive about how to act, but still showed her as much love and affection as he could muster – she had appreciated that. At least that's how she remembered him. He had left a lasting impression on her. She had been so impressed by him when she was a kid that he was the main reason she had joined the Colonial Marines. But her last impression of him had been years ago. A lot had happened to her in all those years. A lot had obviously happened to him to make him so bloodthirsty and earnestly sought after by the authorities.

The crowd was going crazy - Hicks twirled the shotgun twice before re-sheathing it in a custom made holster on his back, he then turned to face the remaining Centurion, the leader.

Newt glanced around at the crowd. The bets were now going in Hicks' favor.

"I'm going to mess you up Sapien!" yelled the Centurion leader.

"Give it your best shot, blood trash" replied Hicks confidently, momentarily wiping the sweat and blood from his forehead with his sleeve.

The Centurion dragged two long, rusted blades out of his belt. The two of them circled, sizing each other up. The Centurion lunged at Hicks, daggers swinging. Hicks blocked each of the Centurion leader's blows with his broad, muscular arms. The Centurion backed off. Hicks smiled, motioning him forward. The Centurion rushed forward again and again Hicks blocked each of the Centurion's rapid dagger swings. One dagger went flying into the crowd, no doubt caught by an unlucky onlooker. Then the Centurion kicked out, hitting Hicks in the kneecap. The distraction was all the Centurion needed to slash with the knife and managing to slice the side of Hicks' arm. Newt was starting to feel as though Hicks was out of his depth, she had to help him – somehow. Hicks kicked out with his left foot, knocking the Centurion off his feet, Hicks advanced on the now seemingly unarmed Centurion. He went to pull out his Shotgun when as though in slow motion the Centurion produced yet another dagger from inside his sleeve. He leapt onto his feet, the force of the body slam overpowered Hicks and pushed him to the floor, Hicks was defenseless – the Centurion was in the motion of swiping the razor sharp blade across Hicks' throat when Newt nimbly jumped to her feet and slammed the dagger Hicks had given her earlier right into the back of the Centurion's head, the end protruded out of it's right eye. Stunned, the Centurion staggered backward and dropping his knife and lurching onto a table – Newt then proceeded to pick up Hicks' abandoned sawn off and give the Centurion's head a new ventilation hole – right between the eyes.

Hicks took a moment to glance down at the tear in his coat sleeve. He then looked up at Newt in absolute amazement – Fuck! this chick had _balls_, it kinda reminded him of someone, someone he had known a very long time ago.

He looked back over at the Centurion leader who was lying collapsed on top of a table, a large chuck from the middle section of his head was sprayed all over the wall behind it.

Hicks pulled himself to his feet, while being watched by the woman and the entire crowd. He turned to the Centurion gang leader and spat quite a lot of bloody mucus on it's mutilated corpse, "Fucking Centurion shit." He ignored the cheers all around him and started walking wearily toward the bathroom. As he wiped the sweat from his face, he passed the Marine woman, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

Newt watched him walk away, tossing the gun aside after realizing she was still holding it. "Hicks..."

Hicks heard her call his name, his real name, but he kept walking. He pushed the door to the filthy bathroom open and disappeared inside. At first Newt was apprehensive about following him inside, she had fought aliens, and watched her squad fall, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to even contemplate what lay behind that door. After a minute or two she could hear the sounds of Hicks retching inside. She swung the door open and followed him in. First the smell hit her – then she got her bearings and looked around, there was a centurion passed out, possibly dead, in one of the corners, different types of fungus and algae was growing allover the walls, ceiling and floor and water was dripping down the walls and onto the floor – but still, that smell, she didn't want to know what that was.

Then she spotted Hicks, he was doubled over the filthy sink, still vomiting up blood and bile. She walked a little closer to him, waiting for him to finish. He spat one last glob of blood into the sink and washed his mouth out. "Hicks…" She repeated.

Still he said nothing. He pulled something that resembled toothpaste out of his pocket – Newt wondered how often he got himself into situations like this. He proceeded to wipe a vomit covered finger on his pants and then use the it as a toothbrush. This place was really starting to make Newt sick.

Hicks turned around to face her, still wiping his teeth irritably, then nodded towards the MALE sign on the door, he wanted her to leave – obviously. Then without dignifying the attempt to ditch her with a verbal response she nodded towards two middle aged prostitutes leaning up against the opposite wall, pulling condoms from the rickety, broken old rubber dispenser.

"Look, you owe me. I saved you ass back there!" She tried to convince him. Hicks shrugged, spat, and pushed past her.

The bartender immediately set up three shot glasses and poured the dark, pungent alcohol into them when he saw Hicks approaching. It's what he usually drank. He stepped up to the bar and picked up the first shot, downing it. He sensed her approach, even before he saw her from the corner of his eye. Shit, he could smell her coming even before she reached him.

"Dwayne Hicks," she stated rhetorically.

"Never heard of him." Hicks said huskily picked up the second shot and downed it.

"Thanks for helping me back there," said Newt, trying to start out on the right foot.

Her scent drifted into his nostrils and Hicks closed his eyes and frowned. He needed this like a hole in the head. "Look... " he started as he opened his eyes and trained them on the tag containing her name and rank. "... Lieutenant - Jorden, Its nothing personal – the less Centurion scum polluting the universe the better. And I'm not coming peacefully so you might as well just leave me the fuck alone."

Newt decided at that moment that she wasn't going to reveal who she was to him. He believed that she was here to arrest him. When he picked up the third shot, she grabbed his wrist, preventing him from bringing it to his mouth. "I'm not here to arrest you," she said.

Hicks could have broken her hand for touching him but to be honest he was just too damned tired. His eyes came up and met her electric blue ones. For a brief moment he thought he recognized something in them. Then he shook his head. He had obviously been without a woman for way too long. He pulled his wrist out of her grip and finished off the shot. "You know my real name. Why else would you be looking for me?"

"I need your help."

Hicks frowned and laughed gruffly. "The Company fucked me up the ass more than a dozen times. You think I'm stupid enough to continue to let that happen?" He needed to move away from her, somewhere where he couldn't smell her any longer. Her scent was making him crazy. What the hell was she thinking, walking into a place like this, smelling like that? She was an accident waiting to happen.

In this delay Newt reached up to touch her cheek where the Centurion had punched her. The skin was broken and she winced from the pain. Her fingers came back bloodied.

"Whatever it is you want from me, I can't help you. I work alone." Hicks motioned for the bartender. "I need a refill." The bartender immediately came over to pour more tequila into the empty shot glasses. As an afterthought, Hicks added. "And get her some ice."

"I'm not asking you to join the Colonial Marines, Hicks. I know you're a former Marine. I read your file." The bartender handed her a rag with some ice in it, the rag looked very unclean, she placed it on her cheek, wincing in pain again.

"Well good for you. So, what does my _file_ say?" Hicks looked up darkly and pushed one of the shot glasses toward her.

Newt accepted the shot and drank it. It made her whole head spin, but she found herself enjoying the sensation, it numbed the pain. "It says that a very long time ago you were part of a marine team before they were decimated by our bug friends. You were reported dead in an EEV crash. Another long stretch passed without any sign of your existence. It then says about 9 years ago you re-appeared and began working as an independent contractor before you took the law into your own hands. And now you're a wanted man."

He pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. Then he searched his pockets for his lighter. Where the hell was it? "Well I bet you think that's a bit spooky don't you Jorden – someone is dead for 250 years and then just re-appears one day?"

Newt reached into her utility belt and retrieved a lighter. She ignited it and placed the flame in front of him. "No, not at all. Because I know where you were - and how you're back."

Hicks laughed to himself and shook his head, lighting his cigarette before the flame blew out. "Do you now? Well, you must be pretty fucking smart then, because I'm not one hundred percent sure where I was myself. But then again there's no telling what kind of shit you people get up to." He recalled the event that could only be described as his rebirth – the one night that started his new shithole of a life.


End file.
